Daphne Ryan, a Fitness Instructor

The last thing you remember is finishing your Thursday night yoga class and locking up the studio. But now you're here. You're still wearing your dark 7/8 leggings and red racerback tank top, with red and white trainers.

You are compelled to climb the stairs into the yawning mouth of the grotesque, passing through a short, polished metal corridor. You see reflected in the walls a woman of 38 years, middling height, fit but curvy. You wear your jaw-length, light brown hair side-parted and loose. Your somewhat dazed brown eyes stare back at you wonderingly.

The corridor terminates in a circular booth, with polished brass walls. The entrance slides closed with an alarming click when you enter. For a moment, you panic in the enclosed space, no bigger than an antique telephone booth. There doesn't seem to be any way out!

You are startled when the low ceiling of the booth slides open and a several items tumble downward, stopping just above your head, swaying there ominously.

There is a red velvet rope, a rope ladder with brass rungs, and a dark metal chain with a decorative golden finial. You guess that one (or all?) of these will lead you further into the fun house, but which do you choose?